SERIESFIC: WORST NIGHTMARE 9 (Tony angst)
TI: WORST NIGHTMARE: The Hour of Separation 9
AU: SnoopMaryMar
DI: The characters and setting do not belong to me. The plot ideas are my intellectual property.
RA: T+/M
SU: The past always demands its due. Tony finds himself running for his life in the aftermath of a most difficult decision. Sequel(s) to "Pace Yourselves" and "Don't Call It Destiny"
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SUNDAY, 2200
Ziva groaned as she straightened, shifting uncomfortably against the rough yellow leather of the booth. Bashan. Of course, they had sent Bashan of all people.
"Ziva. How nice to see you. Your father - ."
"Had better not be involved in the reason I have asked to speak with you," Ziva interrupted him smoothly. Bashan raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I simply need confirmation of information."
"Very well," Bashan settled himself opposite her, a curt shake of his head rejecting the waitress's offer of coffee. "What is it?"
Ziva smiled coolly, pushing her now-empty cup towards the waitress. "A group of professional assassins tried to murder Anthony DiNozzo and a woman named Jeanne Benoit early this morning."
Bashan's lips quirked without amusement. "And you are wondering if it is revenge for Rivkin?"
Ah. So they were more than aware of the goings-down. "Yes."
"It is not Mossad you need to look at, Ziva, rather what your partner has that people might want." Bashan reached over and placed a USB key on the table between them. "This information may be of assistance." Bashan laughed at the frozen look on her face. "Oh, my dear, did you really think ending things with him meant no more watchers?" His face softened fairly slightly as he leaned closer. "Your frat-boy is perfectly safe from Mossad, Ziva. Rivkin had become rogue, a threat. As unfortunate as it was, your very special Agent DiNozzo," he sneered the words, "inadvertently saved Mossad from international embarrassment of the highest order." Bashan smiled a chilling smile, one that curdled her blood. "Besides, why should we put in the effort when there are others with reasons of their own more than happy to deal with him?"
Bashan stood, straightening his coat. "Your father wishes you well. Mazel Tov, Ziva, on your citizenship. Shalom."
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SUNDAY, 2000, I-95
Tony jumped ever-so-slightly when Jeanne spoke. "So you were what? The negotiator between my father and the CIA?" The colour had died down in her cheeks and Jeanne seemed more willing to hear him out, thankfully.
Tony nodded, quickly looking over his shoulder before he changed lanes. "Yes. I had everything arranged. I went to meet your father, to take him into custody and get the rest of the intel."
Heat crept into her voice again. "And I was going to Africa, whether I wanted to or not?"
Tony shook his head, keeping his eyes locked on the traffic ahead. "No. CIA had witness protection ready for both of us, here in the US." A dull ache throbbed in his chest as he thought of what could have been.
Jeanne's voice cracked with emotion. "Then why didn't you come with me? After everything you said!"
Tony shook his head, chancing a glance at her, wincing at the devastation etched into her face. "Jeanne, please, just listen."
Jeanne shook her head and turned to look out the window.
Tony forged on, desperate to make her understand. "I had to stay, I had to look out for your best interests. I had to keep you safe, and helping Kort get the rest of the intel was the only way I could make sure you. didn't. die. I had no choice." Misery yanked at him as he recalled the panic he'd felt when Kort had come to him, how he'd spent what felt like hours hunched over the toilet in the hotel room as that panic had morphed into a tortuous understanding that he hadn't been smart enough, good enough to protect her.
A long moment crawled over his skin, forcing a body-rocking shiver through him, as he waited for Jeanne to answer him, to do something.
"So what happened, Tony? What happened to force you to stay?"
"I went to the marina."
"You went to the marina."
"Yes."
"Were you there when he died, Tony?" Jeanne snarled, fury twisting her battered features. "Did it make your heart sing to watch him die?"
He couldn't drive and do this. It was stupid and risky to stop but fuck it all if he cared right now. Tony swung the car off the interstate and into a rest stop. He parked, then hit the interior lights. He turned in his seat and faced Jeanne. "No. Jeanne, I lied to you and I'm sorry. But your dad? I didn't kill him. I swear. And there was a witness who signed an affidavit to prove it."
"You actually saw him die?" Jeanne looked horrified. "Why didn't you save him!"
"I couldn't. I was too late."
Her voice was commanding and bitter. "Kort? Was it Kort?" Tony shook his head. "No? But then who? Do you know who -?"
"Yes."
Her eyes flared and something in them died. "And you didn't say anything? How could you!" Jeanne threw the door open and stormed out of the car into the rain.
Shit. Tony wrenched the keys from the ignition and followed her, ignoring the pinging of the door chime and the screams of his battered body. He caught her wrist and swung her round to face him. "I had no choice. I had no choice. If I had turned them in, bad things, really bad things, would have happened! You were safer if they got away with it! And I've had to live with that, Jeanne! I had to live with letting a murderer, someone who jeopardized our national security, go free because it was the only way to keep you safe!"
Jeanne tore free and staggered back, but Tony followed her, hand swiping at the rain streaming down his face as everything that he'd been pushing down, so deep down inside of his soul bubbled up and boiled over. "Jeanne, your father gave me a partial file that had high-grade intelligence necessary to the war on terror! To destroying a Yemeni terror school! To saving lives in Afghanistan! The other half? Contingent on you being safe. Protected. By me. So tell me, Jeanne - what comes first? Who do I protect - my life or my country?"
With an inarticulate scream of part-rage/part-grief, Jeanne buried her fist in his belly.
AU: SnoopMaryMar
DI: The characters and setting do not belong to me. The plot ideas are my intellectual property.
RA: T+/M
SU: The past always demands its due. Tony finds himself running for his life in the aftermath of a most difficult decision. Sequel(s) to "Pace Yourselves" and "Don't Call It Destiny"
===============================================================================
SUNDAY, 2200
Ziva groaned as she straightened, shifting uncomfortably against the rough yellow leather of the booth. Bashan. Of course, they had sent Bashan of all people.
"Ziva. How nice to see you. Your father - ."
"Had better not be involved in the reason I have asked to speak with you," Ziva interrupted him smoothly. Bashan raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I simply need confirmation of information."
"Very well," Bashan settled himself opposite her, a curt shake of his head rejecting the waitress's offer of coffee. "What is it?"
Ziva smiled coolly, pushing her now-empty cup towards the waitress. "A group of professional assassins tried to murder Anthony DiNozzo and a woman named Jeanne Benoit early this morning."
Bashan's lips quirked without amusement. "And you are wondering if it is revenge for Rivkin?"
Ah. So they were more than aware of the goings-down. "Yes."
"It is not Mossad you need to look at, Ziva, rather what your partner has that people might want." Bashan reached over and placed a USB key on the table between them. "This information may be of assistance." Bashan laughed at the frozen look on her face. "Oh, my dear, did you really think ending things with him meant no more watchers?" His face softened fairly slightly as he leaned closer. "Your frat-boy is perfectly safe from Mossad, Ziva. Rivkin had become rogue, a threat. As unfortunate as it was, your very special Agent DiNozzo," he sneered the words, "inadvertently saved Mossad from international embarrassment of the highest order." Bashan smiled a chilling smile, one that curdled her blood. "Besides, why should we put in the effort when there are others with reasons of their own more than happy to deal with him?"
Bashan stood, straightening his coat. "Your father wishes you well. Mazel Tov, Ziva, on your citizenship. Shalom."
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SUNDAY, 2000, I-95
Tony jumped ever-so-slightly when Jeanne spoke. "So you were what? The negotiator between my father and the CIA?" The colour had died down in her cheeks and Jeanne seemed more willing to hear him out, thankfully.
Tony nodded, quickly looking over his shoulder before he changed lanes. "Yes. I had everything arranged. I went to meet your father, to take him into custody and get the rest of the intel."
Heat crept into her voice again. "And I was going to Africa, whether I wanted to or not?"
Tony shook his head, keeping his eyes locked on the traffic ahead. "No. CIA had witness protection ready for both of us, here in the US." A dull ache throbbed in his chest as he thought of what could have been.
Jeanne's voice cracked with emotion. "Then why didn't you come with me? After everything you said!"
Tony shook his head, chancing a glance at her, wincing at the devastation etched into her face. "Jeanne, please, just listen."
Jeanne shook her head and turned to look out the window.
Tony forged on, desperate to make her understand. "I had to stay, I had to look out for your best interests. I had to keep you safe, and helping Kort get the rest of the intel was the only way I could make sure you. didn't. die. I had no choice." Misery yanked at him as he recalled the panic he'd felt when Kort had come to him, how he'd spent what felt like hours hunched over the toilet in the hotel room as that panic had morphed into a tortuous understanding that he hadn't been smart enough, good enough to protect her.
A long moment crawled over his skin, forcing a body-rocking shiver through him, as he waited for Jeanne to answer him, to do something.
"So what happened, Tony? What happened to force you to stay?"
"I went to the marina."
"You went to the marina."
"Yes."
"Were you there when he died, Tony?" Jeanne snarled, fury twisting her battered features. "Did it make your heart sing to watch him die?"
He couldn't drive and do this. It was stupid and risky to stop but fuck it all if he cared right now. Tony swung the car off the interstate and into a rest stop. He parked, then hit the interior lights. He turned in his seat and faced Jeanne. "No. Jeanne, I lied to you and I'm sorry. But your dad? I didn't kill him. I swear. And there was a witness who signed an affidavit to prove it."
"You actually saw him die?" Jeanne looked horrified. "Why didn't you save him!"
"I couldn't. I was too late."
Her voice was commanding and bitter. "Kort? Was it Kort?" Tony shook his head. "No? But then who? Do you know who -?"
"Yes."
Her eyes flared and something in them died. "And you didn't say anything? How could you!" Jeanne threw the door open and stormed out of the car into the rain.
Shit. Tony wrenched the keys from the ignition and followed her, ignoring the pinging of the door chime and the screams of his battered body. He caught her wrist and swung her round to face him. "I had no choice. I had no choice. If I had turned them in, bad things, really bad things, would have happened! You were safer if they got away with it! And I've had to live with that, Jeanne! I had to live with letting a murderer, someone who jeopardized our national security, go free because it was the only way to keep you safe!"
Jeanne tore free and staggered back, but Tony followed her, hand swiping at the rain streaming down his face as everything that he'd been pushing down, so deep down inside of his soul bubbled up and boiled over. "Jeanne, your father gave me a partial file that had high-grade intelligence necessary to the war on terror! To destroying a Yemeni terror school! To saving lives in Afghanistan! The other half? Contingent on you being safe. Protected. By me. So tell me, Jeanne - what comes first? Who do I protect - my life or my country?"
With an inarticulate scream of part-rage/part-grief, Jeanne buried her fist in his belly.